Seeing Zhang Xin personally ride into the thick of battle, Zhao Yun finally let out a breath—but the relief came tangled with unease.
If the lord himself had to enter the fray, then the pressure on the main camp must already be immense.
Yet outside the city, Dong Huang's five thousand troops watched like wolves. Zhao Yun could not recklessly sally forth.
The household soldiers of Huayin's great clans could hold walls—but to send them into open battle against the hardened Xiliang Army?
That would not be courage.
That would be slaughter.
And beyond them… Dong Zhuo's cavalry still lingered, waiting for weakness.
"Heroic—truly heroic!" Yang Biao exclaimed, eyes shining as he watched the battlefield from the walls.
He knew little of warfare, but seeing Zhang Xin repel the enemy in person steadied his heart.
Zhao Yun said nothing. He simply tightened his grip on the reins and turned to rally the defenders.
Back in the main camp, Zhang Xin had barely dismounted when Dian Wei strode forward, eyes scanning him from head to toe.
"My lord—are you injured?"
Zhang Xin waved it off with a grin, hands on his hips.
"Just a few minor soldiers. Do you think they could harm me? Even Hua Xiong fell beneath my blade—what are they in comparison?"
Dian Wei nodded, though concern lingered.
"My lord's valor is unmatched… but next time, let me go instead. Your life is worth more than gold. You must not risk it lightly."
Zhang Xin chuckled. "Fine. Next time, I'll send you."
He meant it.
He was no reckless warrior who chased the thrill of death. Today, there had simply been no one else to send.
"Old Dian," he added, glancing at the dimming sky, "rest for now. Tonight, take men and lie in ambush outside the camp. Guard against a night raid."
"Understood."
Night fell.
And as expected—
Dong Zhuo struck.
But the moment his troops approached, Dian Wei's ambush sprang like a trap of iron teeth.
Shouts erupted. Blades flashed. The Xiliang soldiers fell into chaos, abandoning armor and weapons as they fled.
The raid collapsed into a rout.
In his command tent, Dong Zhuo's expression darkened.
Each day wasted meant Zhang Xin's reinforcements drew closer.
Each failure shrank his chance to reclaim Huayin.
Once Zhang Xin secured the city…
Once he turned back to crush Dong Yue and Zhang Ji…
Once the allied armies surged through the Xiaohan Road…
Chang'an would be surrounded.
Even now, though his total forces rivaled Zhang Xin's, most were not truly his.
The Luoyang Imperial Guards.
The Chang'an garrison.
Men whose loyalty could shift like sand.
And Zhang Xin—
A former commander of the West Garden Army.
A man respected by officers across the realm.
Add Cao Cao. Add Sun Jian.
If those three converged on Chang'an…
If even a whisper of defeat spread…
The army would fracture from within.
The city would not fall to siege—
It would collapse from betrayal.
Dong Zhuo exhaled slowly.
"Wenhe."
He turned to Jia Xu.
"Do you have a plan?"
Jia Xu thought briefly.
"Raid the camp again."
"Again?"
Dong Zhuo frowned—then suddenly understood.
A failed raid normally meant caution.
A victorious defense bred complacency.
Strike again now—
And catch them off guard.
"Brilliant!"
Three thousand elite troops moved out under Dong Zhuo's personal command.
An hour later—
He returned.
Disheveled.
Furious.
"Damn it! Zhang Ziqing is no ordinary man!"
Even Jia Xu fell silent.
What kind of commander, after springing an ambush, would not return to camp—but instead remain outside in the freezing night, waiting for a second attack?
It defied reason.
Inside his camp, Zhang Xin watched the retreating enemy and smiled faintly.
"I thought so… Jia Xu must be advising him."
He knew this pattern well.
Victory breeds carelessness.
And that moment—
Is where battles are decided.
"Maintain vigilance," he ordered calmly before returning to rest.
On the third day, Dong Zhuo changed tactics.
Troops were sent up the mountains, attempting to bypass Huayin and seize Fengling Ford directly.
But Xu Huang was ready.
Steel met steel in the narrow passes, and the Xiliang Army could not advance.
Enraged, Dong Zhuo turned all his fury on the main camp.
"Kill!"
The assault came like a storm.
Wave after wave crashed against the defenses, relentless, merciless.
From the city walls, Yang Biao's face turned pale.
"They're about to break through! General Zhao—we must go out and support them!"
Zhao Yun did not move.
"Without the lord's order, we do not sally forth."
His voice was calm—but his eyes never left the battlefield.
Below—
The situation was dire.
Zhang Xin had already charged twice, yet the enemy only grew more desperate.
Because behind them—
Blades waited.
Dong Zhuo had issued a death order.
Advance—and be rewarded.
Retreat—and be executed.
The soldiers had no path but forward.
"Hold them!" Zhang Xin shouted, voice hoarse.
"Reinforcements arrive tonight! Endure this day—and we live!"
"Hold out today—reinforcements tonight!"
The cry spread like wildfire.
The weary White Wave soldiers roared, summoning the last of their strength.
At the front line—
Dian Wei was a demon unleashed.
Twin iron halberds swept through the enemy, blood splattering across his armor.
"DIE!"
He brought his weapon down—
But suddenly—
His grip slipped.
The blood-soaked shaft betrayed him. The halberd flew from his hand, smashing into a distant soldier.
For a heartbeat—
An opening.
A Xiliang soldier lunged, spear thrusting straight for Dian Wei's chest.
Too fast to retreat.
Dian Wei twisted—
Clamped the spear beneath his arm—
And surged forward.
With a roar, he lifted the man—weapon and all—straight into the air.
The soldier screamed as he was swung in a wide arc—
And hurled into his own comrades.
Dian Wei dropped his remaining halberd.
Weapons?
Unnecessary.
He seized another soldier by the leg—
And swung him like a flail.
Bodies became weapons.
Bone and steel alike shattered beneath his fury.
The battlefield fell into stunned silence for a heartbeat—
Watching the human "windmill" carve a path of destruction.
From afar, Dong Zhuo witnessed it.
His expression shifted.
"That man's bravery…"
"…is no less than Lü Bu's."